At Sixes and Sevens
by Aiselne Phoenix Nocturnus
Summary: "You were half of me...long time ago." A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots. Chapter 7 Up!
1. One Once

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_

 **COMMENTS** : Hello, everyone! Long time no see, eh? I've been on hiatus for a while, but now I return bearing gifts in the form of fanfiction. With U.R.T.V.s!

I've _always_ wanted to write a one-shot collection, and who better to star than our delightfully dysfunctional twins? There will be other Xenosaga characters stopping by throughout this anthology, but Jr. and Albedo will still be the center of attention (as usual). I'm hoping to add as much variety in this series as possible, including various characters, genres, styles, and of course relationships. Some chapters will feature Jr. and Albedo as brothers, others as lovers, and some chapters will feature a little bit of both! :3 Every episode will have its own genre and rating posted, too. As of this series' debut, I haven't decided how high the content ratings will go, but appropriate warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter as needed.

The meme for this collection is numbers, a play on the idiom "at sixes and sevens" for 666 x 667, so every chapter will be feature a number in its title. But unless otherwise noted, these stories aren't in any strict chronological order. This first mini chapter is intended to give readers a small taste of what's to come in this collection. Enjoy!

* * *

6&7#1: "One Once" | Genre: General | Rated: K

* * *

 **One Once  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

Sometimes there can only be one.

That was Dmitri Yuriev's intent from the start, believing he alone was capable of opposing, and ultimately surpassing, U-DO. Naturally, such an arrogant delusion was shattered early on in Yuriev's life—no one man, however metempsychotic, can defy God—prompting him to form powerful government alliances, build an empire all his own, and eventually create an army of super-humans. And from this army would rise the greatest warrior of all: the one perfect anti-existent U.R.T.V. who would obliterate U-DO and pave the road for his father's ascension into omnipotence.

There was supposed to be only one, but Yuriev's plans were foiled yet again when the Red Dragon's egg split in half. And to add insult to injury, the split never completely separated the twins; they were conjoined at birth, and even after surgery those boys were utterly inseparable.

But not all was lost. The Dragon's genes took a liking to one baby after all, and Dmitri considered scrapping the other kid…especially when the younger brother was hopeless from the onset. Whereas the Dragon's selection was strong and independent, his lesser half was clingy and cried for no apparent reason, more so than typical babies. Eliminating him would be no problem; defective U.R.T.V.s were disposed off regularly, so nobody would care if Albedo died.

Except Rubedo.

It was a mistake Dr. Yuriev made only once.

In hindsight, it was a stupid mistake. He did not know if it was due to the U.R.T.V.s' inherent telepathic link, or an even deeper bond between the previously conjoined twins, but it was almost as though Rubedo _knew_ what Dmitri was about to do to his brother. And being the devilish Dragon's host, it was not difficult for a mere infant to best his almighty-aspirant father. One blast of red-hot ether later and every window within the nursery was shattered, not to mention uncountable dollars worth of equipment.

Nobody was seriously hurt, though Dmitri did need to purchase a new pair of spectacles afterward. But even without his glasses he was not blind to what happened—nor could he ignore how he found the twins thereafter, huddled underneath a fallen incubator. It was one of the most astounding sights Dmitri ever saw during his long lifetime: there on the floor lay two tiny babies, their naked bodies covered in small cuts, bruises, and flakes of debris from the explosion. Aside from being perfectly alive, the twins were perfectly _quiet_ —shockingly Albedo, who seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal, so as long as he was curled back-to-back with his other half. It was the first time Dmitri ever found his crybaby son so silent.

Rubedo was equally content, looking about ready to fall asleep after expelling such power. Dmitri highly doubted the baby was conscious of his actions, but what difference did it make? The child's compatibility with the Red Dragon was incredible _already_! Though it did pique Dmitri's curiosity as to why the monster would display any sort of care for Albedo when it already had Rubedo.

Or perhaps that was the point: one could not have Rubedo without Albedo. Half or whole, the boys were vital to each other. Separate them and there would be hell to pay.

Sometimes there can only be one. But this once, Dmitri settled for two.

 **Fin**

* * *

 **A/N** : I am (tentatively) leaning towards monthly releases for this series' chapters. Whether or not I can actually _stick_ to that schedule is another matter entirely, but I will do my best! ^_^

Thanks for reading this sneak preview of my new anthology, and I hope to see readers again next time! Feel free to let me know what you think of my latest U.R.T.V. venture, too.


	2. Two Scoops

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_

 **COMMENTS** : I can't thank everyone enough for supporting this series! It thrills me to find fellow Xenosaga fans who adore the U.R.T.V.s as much as I do! :D

At6&7s Chapter 2 is all about juvenescent twin fluff, folks. I've always adored it. *^.^* There's something about fluffing up Rubedo and Albedo's (sad/tragic) youths that makes me feel giddy and warm inside. And when you add _sugar_ to the mix? Look out!

* * *

6&7#2: "Two Scoops" | Genre: Fluff | Rated: K+ for suggestive themes & brief language

Childhood is all about making memories, but growing up in the Yuriev Institute means Rubedo and Albedo only have a spoonful of opportunities to behave like normal kids. Fortunately, this particular spoonful involves ice cream.

* * *

 **Two Scoops  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

"Aw c'mon, Albedo. It'll be fun," Rubedo reassured confidently yet softly, mindful to keep his voice down lest the twins arouse notice. Fortunately the Yuriev Institute's staff lounge was long empty by 23:00, and the room's security was minimal on account of it storing nothing of utmost importance. Unless somebody coveted a forgotten lunch bag, digital fashion magazine, or half-emptied can of orange soda.

Such was the extent of treasures two U.R.T.V. boys unearthed in the uncharted room, illuminated weakly by wall-mounted safety lights. Having genetically-enhanced eyesight posed no strain on the boys' vision, but the surroundings still disappointed Rubedo. Not that he expected the grownups' lounge to be an amusement park, but he had hoped it would offer _something_ different from the mundane norms seen in the rest of the bland facility. Same typical metallic walls, windows, pristine floors…the only monumental difference was the furniture: overstuffed leather chairs and sofas, coffee tables, synthetic plants, and an actual rug that covered the center of the room. Albedo was rather taken with its soft texture, running his shoes back and forth against the rug until he accidentally gave himself a static shock. He stuck closer to Rubedo afterwards.

Chuckling to himself, Rubedo shook his head before concluding his once-over of the adult's lounge, hands on his hips. "Jeez, is this it?"

"What did you expect, anyway?" asked Albedo, less disappointed than his twin on account of the younger brother never harboring high hopes in the first place. He admired Rubedo's sense of adventure but tonight's outing scraped the bottom of the barrel.

"I dunno," Rubedo shrugged, absentmindedly looking around for something "awesome" to magically appear from thin air. "We've never been in here before. I figured there might be something cool—you know, _grownup_ kinda' cool—which they didn't want us kids to see. Like those drinks they keep telling us we're took young to have."

"Rubedo, we live in a military facility where scientists regulate every bite of food in our diets," Albedo clued in his idealistic brother, noticing the soda can left on the lounge's coffee table. "We're not allowed to drink carbonated beverages, never mind alcoholic."

The redhead impishly scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, but especially after today's party I figured there'd be _something_ fun left over…"

If excitement was what Rubedo sought, he and Albedo should have visited the lounge a few hours earlier. It was Juli Mizrahi's birthday and the staff threw her a small surprise party that afternoon. Diversion was the ultimate birthday present, considering the poor woman's marital issues and her daughter's illness.

Of course, while the adults were busy having fun like children, the _actual_ children were busy working their asses off in the U-DO simulator. Rubedo was pissed (and jealous), but mostly he hated the fact that he missed a party for Juli. He liked Dr. Mizrahi; she was the closest Rubedo would ever have to a mother figure, and he felt coldly snubbed from the celebration, as though being a "kid" meant his relationship with Juli was of less value. Granted, U.R.T.V.s themselves never celebrated birthdays, but from what Rubedo gathered: was it not the point of a birthday party to honor the life of someone special?

Plus, Rubedo wanted cake. He never tasted it before, but books claimed cakes were sweet, sugary, unhealthy—exactly the kind of food Rubedo was prohibited to eat, yet he always wanted to try. Cakes were staples of Lost Jerusalem birthday parties; a child averaged at least one birthday cake per birthday per year, and according to Rubedo's calculations he missed out on twelve. It was unfair, dammit!

"If the grownups had any leftovers, where do you think they'd keep 'em?" Rubedo asked aloud, more to himself as he snooped. The small kitchenette along the farthest wall seemed promising. "Juli said she'd save us something," earlier promising the disappointed boy with an appreciative kiss on the forehead. Sweeter than cake were Rubedo's well intentions, even if they were sugar-induced. "What do you think, Albedo? Is cake something that keeps in a cabinet or someplace cold?"

"How should I know?" Albedo shrugged as he followed Rubedo with a bored expression on his face. Rubedo could turn anything into an adventure, whereas his twin was more realistic. They stood inside a _lounge_ , and not even the type of lounge with a TV. There was only so much "adventure" and "excitement" to be had. Albedo was beginning to think that Nigredo had the right idea when he chose sleeping over snooping. Right now the littlest U.R.T.V. was undoubtedly snoozing soundly, cuddled up with a fluffy kitty, and would _not_ be a zombie come morning after wasting the night in some stupid grownup hangout. "Let's just go back and get some sleep, Rubedo."

The redhead rolled his eyes. If Albedo admired Rubedo's adventurous spirit, Rubedo could not stand Albedo's killjoy spirit. After peeking inside a wood cabinet that offered zero results, Rubedo headed for the refrigerator. "What, _scared_ , little bro?"

"No, I'm _bored_ ," Albedo huffed matter-of-factly, folding his arms. "This is stupid! Why do you always drag me into these brilliant ideas of yours?"

Rubedo snorted. "Who 'dragged' you anywhere? You were the one who said it sounded like fun. If you didn't wanna' come why didn't you just stay behind with Nigredo?"

"Because Nigredo is even more boring than this," grumbled Albedo, skirting the obvious reason being that without the baby of the family underfoot the twins could enjoy some "fun" quality time alone. Between Nigredo, Sakura, and Dr. Mizrahi it seemed like Albedo never got Rubedo to himself anymore. How far had the twins fallen for a night like _this_ to be the best Albedo could get?

"Then stop whining and help me look," the older sibling scolded as he pulled open the fridge door. But Rubedo's request for help searching was obsolesced a second later. Once the flash of refrigerator light receded Rubedo beheld the treasures within. The bottom row was a clear-cased storage drawer for fruits and vegetables, temperature-controlled for maximum freshness. The inside doors held shelves for drinks of all sizes and colors, though Rubedo did not understand most of the labels. Was there really such a thing as "all natural" lemon-flavored water? Those alleged zero-calorie sodas had to be a joke.

The center shelves of the refrigerator were open, storing a variety of containers, presumably lunches or snacks for individual workers. Most employees ate food freshly cooked in the cafeteria, so Rubedo assumed these containers were self-brought like homemade goods. The closest to "homemade cooking" Rubedo ever ate was the performance-enhancing foods specially prepared by institute dieticians, and it was hardly tasty. He wondered about home-cooked casseroles, roasts, pastas, soups, sandwiches, cookies…and despite not having slightest idea what those edibles actually tasted like, Rubedo's mouth watered.

"Did you find any cake, Rubedo?"

Lost in his food fantasy, Rubedo nearly forgot his original objective. The fridge offered plenty, but nothing that matched the redhead's idea of a cake. Books told of cakes of all varieties: big, little, multi-tiered, rectangular, circular, topped with decorations, fruits, syrups, and even candy (for those who believed the cake itself was not sweet enough)! Juli's birthday party was not extravagant, but Rubedo expected at least a small cake. Sadly, nothing of the sort was found inside the lounge's refrigerator.

"I don't get it," blinked the redhead, gently scooting aside a few food containers to see if the cake was stored behind. Nothing inside the containers looked cakelike, either. "Dr. Mizrahi said she'd save us some slices." This _was_ the correct place, right?

"Maybe there wasn't anything left to save," Albedo guessed, not caring about the cake quite as much as his other half. True, he was curious about the confection but Albedo did not hold his breath, either. It was more disappointing to see Rubedo's disappointment. The white-haired kid almost suggested that maybe Juli lied, or forgot altogether about the boys' treat, but even Albedo knew she was not that type of a woman…and he rarely spoke highly of the opposite sex. "Grownups don't have strict diets like we do, after all."

"Yeah…" trailed Rubedo, unconvinced, straining to find some hidden treasure. Never the type to give up, the link master's blue eyes wandered north until Rubedo realized his quest was not entirely over. The fridge may have been a bust, but what about the overhead _freezer_? Immediately Rubedo rose on his tiptoes, reached for the freezer's handle, and opened the chilly wonderland.

And behold the holy land of frozen goodies! Amidst meats and other chilled goods were the assumed leftovers of Juli's party; one tub of ice cream.

Both twins blinked simultaneously. "W-wait, that's it?" Rubedo stood as tall as possible to see inside, but the ice cream was the only evidence of there ever being a birthday party. Even then, one measly container of ice cream did not necessarily scream "big birthday bash!" either. Sure, ice cream was yet another forbidden pleasure for U.R.T.V.s, but, "Where's the cake, dammit?!"

Albedo sighed heavily, rubbing his sore temples. "I told you; this is _so stupid_!" He loved his brother but knew Rubedo's illustrious adventures could use a tad more forethought. The lounge's wall clock read 23:17 and Albedo knew he would never get those seventeen minutes back. He wanted to spend quality time with his twin but Albedo forgot how said quality time can sometimes be woefully mind-numbing. "Are we done here, Rubedo?"

The stubborn redhead hated to agree but Albedo was probably right. Unless Juli's cake was invisible then there was nothing worthwhile inside the lounge aside ice cream…

"Uh, what're you doing?" Albedo piped up as Rubedo giggled mischievously and snatched something from the freezer, shutting the door and none too innocently scampering towards the nearest coffee table. The redhead immediately plopped the tub on the table's top, gasping how it was "Cold! Cold!" to the touch. With a swift twist of the cover Rubedo opened the ice cream container and marveled at the mini mountains of white deliciousness. Vanilla, or so the label read.

"It's not cake, but it looks damn tasty!" Rubedo grinned, giddy enough without the extra sugar in his system. Albedo could not decide which enthralled Rubedo more: the first taste of ice cream, or the fact that he was overtly disobeying their doctors' (and father's) wishes. It was a chance for them to act like real kids!

And if something so simple put that big a smile on Rubedo's face, Albedo was not stupid enough to spoil it. He _was_ a little curious about the ice cream, too…

"How do we eat it?" Albedo wondered, not relishing the idea of sticking his fingers inside the chilly confection. "Spoons would probably work best. We should get some cups or something to put our share in, too. I can't eat all that." Generally speaking, Albedo did not possess his twin's appetite. At least not for food.

So the children scoured the kitchenette drawers, finding two spoons and two bowls. Already they realized the longer the ice cream tub was outside the freezer the quicker the ice cream melted into goo. The best idea was to scoop out their portions and return the remainder to the freezer. Rubedo divvied two rather large scoops for each boy, too excited to care if his eyes were bigger than his stomach.

"It needs something else," Rubedo declared, finding the vanilla ice cream alone to be plain. Ice cream was usually topped with something, right? Like chocolate sauce or fruit. "Hey, there was fruit in the refrigerator!"

Again, Albedo was not overly hungry, especially so late at night, but he smiled and let Rubedo do his thing. The older kid was having fun, and pathetic or not this was the most entertainment the twins shared in a while. At least Albedo did not have to worry about buttinskies like Nigredo or Sakura—

"Sweet! I found cherries!"

Albedo coughed involuntarily, but shrugged off his annoyance by the time Rubedo returned to the sofa and placed one shiny round cherry atop each ice cream bowl. Real cherries were another luxury the boys never experienced, though in the defense of the Yuriev Institute dieticians, "organic" fruit was a rarity for many people of that century. The fruits Rubedo found in the refrigerator were from a small fruit salad—perhaps another party leftover? It was rather small, though—and obviously belonged to some big-shot scientist who could afford nothing but the best.

Personally, Albedo found the fruit most appealing of the entire dessert, partially because Rubedo possessed the sweet tooth of the duo, but mostly because the cherry reminded Albedo of—no, not of _her_. Honest!—the cherry-haired boy with whom he happened to be sharing this moment. _She_ could have Rubedo inside her subconscious domain la-la land, but right here and now in the _real_ world Rubedo was Albedo's. That was the best treat of all.

"Let's dig in!" beamed Rubedo, too preoccupied with ice cream and rule-breaking to notice his brother's thoughts. Their individual reasons may have differed but both U.R.T.V.s were enjoying themselves. Brandishing spoons, the boys plunged their utensils into the creamy wonderment and scooped a generous helping into their mouths. The taste literally sent a sugary shock to their systems.

"Ho'wy cw'ap!" the eldest exclaimed, mouth full and eyes wide as his taste buds scrambled to compute something so foreign. It was not a glamorous sight, nor was it a long-winded, savor-every-taste moment, as the boy immediately swallowed to relieve his mouth from the sugar-shock, the cold cream hurting as it fell down his throat. Rubedo shook his head as though the wind was knocked out of him, coughing involuntarily. "Wow!" he gasped, astonished. "That. Is. Sweet." Not to note the obvious, but Rubedo never expected anything to taste _that_ sweet.

Albedo struggled the same way, coercing his brother to pat his back. He half-wondered if Dr. Yuriev specifically designed his U.R.T.V.s not to be able to digest junk food, and the last thing Albedo wanted was to do was vomit. That would undoubtedly ruin his evening with Rubedo.

"How do people eat this stuff?" the white-haired boy wondered, though the greater question was how the hell could his older brother be eager for a _second_ taste? Albedo stared at Rubedo's full spoon and open mouth as though the redhead sprouted a second head.

"What?" Rubedo shrugged, never self-conscious over people staring at him as he ate. "I didn't say it tasted bad." Quite the contrary; it tasted awesome compared to the usual horseshit U.R.T.V.s ate, but now Rubedo understood the meaning of the adage "too much of a good thing."

But if normal twelve-year-old kids could handle this sugary adversary, surely twelve-year-old bioweapons could do the same! "This just…takes some getting used to. Come' on, Albedo. Heh, we've been through worse!" Thankfully, the second tasting went significantly more smoothly than the first, and by the third try Rubedo could not get enough of vanilla ice cream. "Mm! This rocks!"

Albedo was still wary, but Rubedo's enthusiasm was dangerously contagious. The longer he dallied the quicker the ice cream began to puddle inside his bowl, too, so Albedo knew he had better make up for lost time. The ice cream truly was delicious, Albedo's favorite aspect being its smooth, creamy texture that literally melted inside his mouth. He imagined ice cream would taste even better on a hot summer day, like when the U.R.T.V.s visited Sakura's domain…

 _No_ , Albedo disregarded that idea as quickly as it materialized. Just thinking about _her_ spoiled the boy's appetite. This was his and Rubedo's first taste of ice cream, a "first" that Sakura could never take away, even if there had been plenty other firsts she and Rubedo shared inside her imaginary playground: their first time swimming, first time playing musical instruments, first kiss—

 _No, no, no, no! No! NO!_ It was not fair, damn it! Who cared about ice cream when there were sweeter things on the line…sweeter things that Sakura _stole_ as far as Albedo was concerned? Was it Albedo's imagination or was he running out of "firsts" to share with Rubedo because of her? Yes, in the overall span of twelve years he and Rubedo shared the most firsts together, right down to their first breaths. But nowadays what happened between babies seemed pretty trivial compared to what the twins could share as they got older…

The younger kid knew he was blushing heavily long before Rubedo asked what was the matter. The redhead was clueless as always, but not dumb enough to neglect checking their telepathic link for answers to Albedo's sudden weirdness. And though Albedo secretly appreciated his twin's concern…the last thing he wanted was for Rubedo to stick his nose into personal places (and emotions). But it would be too suspicious if Albedo forced Rubedo out of his head or suddenly erected a mental barrier.

Thank God for ice cream.

Somewhere in the recesses of his memory Albedo recalled what happened when people ate too much ice cream too fast. Doing so triggered the inevitable brain-stabbing sensation that not only tortured Albedo's head, but also painfully reverberated across the mental link and evicted Rubedo before the elder brother knew what hit him. Both U.R.T.V.s dropped their spoons and grabbed their heads as though U-DO himself punished them. It was anything but pleasant, but a small price to pay to ensure Albedo's privacy.

"Shit!" Rubedo cussed as the knives gradually stopped piercing his brain. "Now I know what they mean by brain freeze. It _does_ hurt like a son of a bitch."

Albedo only nodded his agreement, surprised (and thankful) that his scheme actually succeeded. Rubedo did not bother prying afterwards. Once the brain freeze subsided completely both twins ate the remainder of their dessert slowly and more quietly, enjoying the moment for what it was.

"We should do stuff together like this more often," Albedo said before he even realized his mouth opened. Ordinarily it was Rubedo who spoke without thinking, but perhaps the sugar was affecting Albedo's better judgment. Or maybe that brain freeze did more damage than he expected. Either way, the boy's blush boomeranged back whence it came.

Rubedo blinked, surprised by the shyer twin's boldness. "What're you talking about, Albedo? We do stuff together all the time."

Albedo swallowed a bitter, ice cream-mashed lump in his throat before scoffing. "Yeah right." Rubedo could be so dense sometimes; perhaps Albedo _should_ have allowed his brother see his inner feelings. There was no way in hell Rubedo could put two plus two together otherwise. "The only time we do stuff 'together,' Rubedo, is when Nigredo and Sakura are around too."

"So?" the redhead blinked again, not seeing the problem. "We're still together. It's not like I'm alienating you from the group or anything."

 _You might as well be_ , Albedo wanted to say. The size of their playgroup did not matter; as long as somebody else—namely _she_ —was around, Albedo was automatically demoted from Rubedo's interest. What made Sakura Mizrahi so damn appealing, anyway? Was it because she was a girl? So what?! There were plenty of women doctors working throughout the Yuriev Institute, the U.R.T.V.s already had sisters, and not one of those females struck Albedo as extraordinarily fascinating. And yet Rubedo gravitated to Sakura like a moth to a flame.

Like Albedo gravitated to Rubedo.

Albedo refused to believe his brother's interest in Sakura belonged in the same stratosphere of the twins' bond. There was no possible way that Rubedo liked Sakura in the way Albedo liked Rubedo…was there?

The question terrified Albedo to his core. One day he would lose Rubedo's life whilst Albedo lived forever…Albedo could never handle losing his other half's heart as well. He felt sick just thinking about it.

His ice cream bowl began to feel bottomless against an appetite Albedo suddenly lost. "I'm full," he lied, placing the dessert on the coffee table and leaving the sofa. "You can eat the rest of mine if you want it, Rubedo. I'm going back to bed."

Eying his gloomy twin, Rubedo sighed to himself. Albedo's mood swings irritated him, especially when the boys seemed to be having fun a moment ago. _Great, what did I say wrong_ this _time?_ the redhead mentally groaned, hating how he always seemed to hurt his brother without realizing. It did not help that Albedo was much too sensitive, and Rubedo was much too oblivious.

But Rubedo knew he could not leave matters alone; ignoring Albedo only rubbed salt in the wound, and for just one night Rubedo wanted everything between them to go smoothly. Lately the twins were constantly arguing, and even when they behaved themselves Rubedo and Albedo rarely spoke. During such times Rubedo was thankful to have Nigredo and Sakura as companions, yet he also felt guilty watching Albedo disappear into the shadow of their group. But could Rubedo really be blamed for Albedo's introversion? If the younger boy was uncomfortable socializing should Rubedo push the issue? What was the right thing for a big brother to do?

 _Damned if I do, damned if I don't_ , Rubedo knew, rising from his seat to stop Albedo. Nobody could fix the twins' problems except the twins themselves, which meant _somebody_ had to make the first move. Rubedo was the oldest, after all.

"Hold it right there, drama queen," the redhead lightly yet cheekily interrupted before Albedo could leave. Setting aside his own ice cream, the redhead snatched Albedo's unfinished bowl, plucking the lonely little fruit and offering it to his white-haired brother. "Before you go sulking on outta' here, you can at least eat the cherry."

It would be another first tasting shared between the boys, had the moment not already been spoiled. The cherry was the last thing on Albedo's mind…well, that was not entirely true, but his brain was preoccupied with an entirely different "cherry" who pissed him off so badly it hurt. "No thanks. I don't even like…"

"How can you not like something when you've never eaten it?" countered an exasperated Rubedo, unwilling to listen to Albedo's weak excuses. His other hand grabbing Albedo's shoulder, Rubedo spun his twin around to face him and the illusive cherry. "For crying out loud, Albedo, for once in your life could you stop bein' an ass?"

Purple eyes widened angrily when Albedo opened his mouth to loudly retort, "I'm not the one who's being an as—!"

The younger twin nearly choked when Rubedo promptly shoved the cherry into Albedo's mouth. Both bickerers were silenced thereafter; Albedo's mouth busy chewing and Rubedo's mouth busy smirking wickedly, barely containing his snickers. The surprised, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look across Albedo's face was too funny and priceless. Not to mention cute. Life was always more fun when both twins stopped being asses.

So numbed and flabbergasted by Rubedo's behavior, Albedo barely enjoyed the tasty little cherry…well, that was not entirely true, either. Face to face with his brother imprinted Rubedo's cocky smile with the cherry's tartness, with no room for Sakura or any other interlopers. Because amidst their rocky relationship, Albedo wanted to equate as many good, happy memories with Rubedo as possible.

Swallowing the cherry was akin to swallowing any remaining bitterness, leaving behind a smile on Albedo's own lips. _This_ was what he wanted; all alone in a world built for two, basking in Rubedo's glowing blue eyes, radiant smile, and endless confidence. A place where Albedo did not have to be afraid of the future, or fear others taking away what was most precious to him. A place where Albedo could be brave enough to share the greatest of firsts with Rubedo, where neither of them had to be afraid or embarrassed.

"Albe—?" Rubedo was the one to be cut off this time as the space between twins shrank, Albedo's lips close enough for him to smell the seductive aroma of cherries. This would not technically be Rubedo's first kiss, but it certainly would be Albedo's…

"What are you boys doing in here?"

The lounge's overhead lights flashed brightly, briefly blinding the twins and snapping them out of their fantasy. A large shadow towered over them, momentarily relieving Rubedo and Albedo's eyes from the glaring lights…until their eyes focused and saw the overwhelmingly _un_ -relieving sight of their father. Dmitri Yuriev was hardly a friendly daddy figure, never mind during the dead of night.

Caught like kids with their hands in the cookie jar (or in this case, in the ice cream tub), the only feasible, mature thing for the U.R.T.V. twins to do was take their punishment like men.

Except…being only at the tender age of twelve, when ice cream, sugar, and kisses were the extent of milestones in their lives, Rubedo and Albedo hardly considered themselves "men." And tonight was about them being "normal" kids, so the mischievous twins exchanged knowing nods and did precisely what any "normal" kids would do when caught red-handed by their parent.

Run like hell!

Dmitri sighed tiredly, not bothering to give chase at such an ungodly hour. Half-eaten bowls of vanilla ice cream were left as evidence of the U.R.T.V.s' innocent crime, but innocent or not those naughty boys would need to be reprimanded eventually. The doctor was none too appreciative of being called from his office after the twins unknowingly tripped the lounge's silent alarm. Apparently there _were_ things in the lounge that warranted security measures. Never underestimate sweet-deprived children.

On the plus side…if Rubedo and Albedo wanted to act like "normal" children, then they would be punished as such. Was it not customary to take away disobedient kids' desserts?

Collecting the bowls and dumping them into the kitchenette's sink, a small, almost playful smirk tugged the corner of Dmitri's own mouth. "I wonder what Dr. Mizrahi will do now with those extra slices of cake she kept in the upstairs lounge." He stopped smirking, however, when Dmitri later noticed his lunch's fruit salad was strangely absent of cherries.

The man ran a hand though his gray hair, knowing exactly where those gray hairs came from. "Damn kids."

 **Fin**

* * *

 **A/N** : Little to say about this chapter, other than I feel like eating some ice cream now, myself. ^^;

Thanks again for reading! I hope to see you again next time in Chapter 3!


	3. Three Strikes

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_ , or _Thus Spoke Zarathustra_.

 **COMMENTS** : My sincerest apologies for the delay with Chapter 3. The original idea I had for this chapter posed a bunch of problems, particularly length-wise, and in the end I simply wasn't happy with it. Therefore I needed to write an entirely new story, which is the one you are about to read.

Unlike 6&7's first two stories, _Three Strikes_ is substantially darker, taking place during Albedo's teenage years under U-TIC's wing. I've always been curious about the U.R.T.V.s' fourteen-year gap between the Miltian Conflict and Episode I.

Again, thank you for being so patient with this episode's release. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

6&7#3: "Three Strikes" | Genre: Drama | Rated: T for language, mild sexual themes, & abusive violence and/or potentially disturbing content

* * *

 **Three Strikes  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

The years following Rubedo's betrayal on Old Miltia were the hardest for Albedo. As though adolescence was not challenging enough for a growing boy, Albedo had the added privilege of maturing under U-TIC's watchful eye…and every eye there stared at the albino as though he were the vilest scourge. The U.R.T.V. was, after all, "contaminated" by U-DO, so most people believed, and Albedo's batshit personality did not ease their minds, either. Thus, more often than not Albedo found himself mostly alone.

Alone — it had been Albedo's greatest fear, and it had finally come true.

And it was all Rubedo's fault.

He fantasized about smacking the red-haired betrayer upside his head, knocking some sense into Rubedo's thick skull—if Albedo were lucky. More likely Rubedo would simply fight back, defending himself like the ignorant, stubborn little bastard he was. Too bad for the former U.R.T.V. leader that his twin had grown considerably since the Miltian Conflict. Albedo had long since shattered the egg of his pathetic youth, sprouting white wings and razor claws that sank into his bloodied prey. Red always suited Rubedo best.

Oh, what a beautiful sight it would be to see Rubedo choke on his own blood, the precious fluids spilling from his lips like the finest wine. It was Albedo's poison, and he greedily drank from his twin's mouth like a depraved lush. Such a bittersweet taste. The only thing more satisfying than the drink was Rubedo's panting, flushed face upon the release of his lips.

"A-Al…Albe—"

 _Slap!_

Albedo did not want to talk—he did not want to hear whatever it was Rubedo had to say, be it excuses, apologies, curses, or confessions. It was too late for words, anyhow, and the allegedly older twin's softer, youthful, almost girlish voice only added to Albedo's chagrin.

"Speak out of turn again and I'll bite off that pink little tongue next time," he threatened, grabbing Rubedo's face by his bruised cheeks and bringing their bloodied lips dangerously close again. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" No reply was necessary.

Hysterical laughter then exploded from the lunatic's quaking body as Albedo discarded his favorite pawn to the cold floor. How pitiful Rubedo looked now; how fate satirically reversed the twins' roles! All his youth Albedo had been the weaker one, constantly cowering behind Rubedo's shoulders, needing Rubedo like a plant feeding off the sun's rays. By now he had absorbed enough of Rubedo's radiance to surpass the link master altogether, and the victory felt marvelous. Did Albedo even _need_ this tiny brat anymore?

 _Snap!_

Nothing had physically struck Albedo, yet he still felt something crack inside him, immediately silencing his maniacal cackles. If he was so strong, why did he even care about Rubedo anymore? The redhead clearly did not give a rat's ass about _him_!

So why, whenever Albedo attempted to sleep at night did he always see Rubedo's face? Why was the redhead perpetually in his thoughts? Why did Albedo feel his chest throb even after all these years of being separated from birth?

And why in hell did a lower part of his body throb at the sight of the battered child laying sprawled across the bloodstained floor? He could chalk it up to those proverbial teenage hormones, but it would not be fair to deny Rubedo's excuses with Albedo's own.

All of the reasons were clear. In the end, everything in Albedo's life boiled down to Rubedo. Their separation was futile. And if Albedo could not escape the hold Rubedo had on his mind, sanity, and his heart, then Albedo would make damn certain that Rubedo would never escape him, either. Their separation would be temporary in the grand scheme of things.

And the knowledge that he and his twin would eventually come together again broke the remnants of Albedo's perverse reverie.

Breaking his toy in the process.

 _Crack!_

Later, Pleroman guards discreetly escorted Chief Inquisitor Margulis to the E.S. hangar where a small body had been dumped outside the left foot of Simeon. The deceased's hair had been cut incredibly short and dyed in blood—blood that clearly came from the severe trauma across her naked body. She _had_ been female until that violent son of a bitch mutilated all of her feminine parts, her resemblance now closer to an epicene boy. Margulis may not have gagged into his handkerchief like a few of his onlooking subordinates, but that did not mean the scar-faced man was without revulsion.

One of the more composed guards growled angrily to himself. "That's the third one this month. Sick bastard." Nobody argued. They were just glad that Albedo typically kept to himself, away from the rest of U-TIC's members. Best to leave a rabid dog alone.

Except Albedo was not left _entirely_ alone.

"Dispose of this with the rest," Margulis ordered. As his men did their dirty work, Margulis' hand absentmindedly brushed the hilt of his rapier. He was not one of those Realian bleeding hearts who felt sorry for Albedo's abused Kirschwassers…if Joachim Mizrahi himself did not care about them, why should anyone else?

But Margulis _was_ devoutly religious. There was only one time he ever questioned the wishes of Cardinal Heinlein. "Rescuing such a monster…" he murmured to himself, alone in the hanger once the body was removed. Only Margulis knew he was not alone, and he spoke for the eavesdropping madman's benefit. "May everything be according to God's will."

"I wouldn't hold your breath, Inquisitor." Albedo's dark giggles echoed above from the shadows of Simeon's massive shoulders. He drew a bloodied hand to his lips, indulging in the red that drove him madder than U-DO. "God is dead, and _my_ little god forsook me years ago. Yet neither of us can live without Him. What a vicious cycle love is."

Margulis scoffed angrily, peering at the ground's bloodstains. "You are in no position to talk about God or love, Albedo."

"Ah, but I am, because both were what made me who I am today." And then Albedo vaulted from Simeon, landing like a bird of prey directly in front of Margulis' face. The older man never flinched, and his obstinate bravery fueled the U.R.T.V.'s twisted grin. Such stubbornness reminded Albedo of Rubedo.

"Take a good, long look, Margulis. _This_ is what becomes of a man whose unwavering devotion drives him to insanity. 'There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.'"

 **Fin**

* * *

 **A/N** : Albedo's last line is a quote from _Thus Spoke Zarathustra_.

Chapter 4 (hopefully) will not take as long to publish, on account of its progress running much smoother than its predecessor. So hopefully I'll be seeing everybody next month. If you're still following this series, thank you for your support! :)


	4. Four Letter Words

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_

 **COMMENTS** : I want to take a moment to personally thank readers for sticking with this story. I admit I haven't been feeling my best throughout the writing of this series, so your support tremendously buoys my confidence. :)

And I especially want to extend my thanks to my wonderful reviewers, who, no matter _what_ I write (and no matter _how long_ it takes for me to write), always keep coming back for more: **Princess of Heart 11, Dizasterrific,** **Tylida Doradelo** , and the anonymous **Guest** who left a very nice message/reminder regarding another Xenosaga HD petition (let's not give up, fellow Xeno fans! :D). I hope you can forgive me for being unable to keep up with reviews/replies of my own. You're the best!

So what's in store for this episode? Yours truly is fooling around with wordplay and Jr.'s infamous potty mouth again. :P This is actually my favorite 6&7 one-shot to date, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

* * *

6&7#4: "Four Letter Words" | Genre: Drabble/Angst | Rated: T for strong language & references to violence and sexuality

* * *

 **Four Letter Words  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

Cuss.

Jr. did plenty of it, but who could blame him? He was not the little kid his appearance suggested, and considering the past twenty-seven years of his life, a petty potty mouth was the least of Number 666's crimes.

Twin.

The most frequent reason for Jr.'s swearing. Nowadays it seemed that Jr. could not even _think_ about Albedo without cursing the son of a bitch; cursing the violent pain Albedo inflicted upon others, sometimes even upon himself, the regenerative masochist. Cursing himself for abandoning Jr.'s other half and running away from the mess he made.

Yet still never cursing the day the twins were born.

Beat.

He still remembered the song they shared, tandem heartbeats from a tender time when Rubedo's other half was simply, always a shoulder-glance away. The beating never stopped, even after their separation. A perpetual, comforting echo.

Tear.

Dr. Yuriev was the first to separate the babies. Neither felt whole ever again, but Rubedo and Albedo were content as long as they could still live together. Play together. Eat together. Sleep together. Wake together. Bathe together. Dress together. Work together. Study together. Fight together. _Be_ together.

Eventually all of that togetherness inadvertently drove them apart, or at least drove one brother away. Rubedo could no longer resent his father for separating them, when he himself tore them apart on that fateful, horrific night on Miltia. Only this time the damage was permanent.

Hell.

The warzone of Old Miltia was still burned in the back of Jr.'s mind, haunting him for fourteen long years. There were days it felt like Rubedo never escaped the Miltian Conflict, the gruesome past superimposed over the idyllic present Jr. and Gaignun built on the Kukai Foundation:

Fancy penthouses deteriorated into skeletal remains of bombed skyscrapers. Bright blue sky turned black, hazy with smoke, whilst twittering birds warped into the maddening Song of Nephilim. The beach's ocean oozed blood, and rising from the surf was not a happy-go-lucky swimmer but a corpse, dripping red that gave way to white. Then Albedo would seize Jr.'s neck and drag him down into the water, all the way to the bottom of the abyss where there was no hope for escape.

Time.

It allegedly heals all wounds. But tell that to the red-haired boy who screams himself out of a recurring nightmare every morning, and Jr. will just cuss again.

Gone.

For a person whom Rubedo abandoned on Miltia, Jr. never let go of Albedo emotionally. One is never lost when his memory is kept alive. But there was a difference between Albedo always being in Jr.'s thoughts, versus Albedo literally returning to the stage. No longer could Jr. lick his wounds with the happier memories of their youth—now he had to face the monster he created in his adulthood.

Glad.

To say Jr. was disappointed to see Albedo again would be a lie. He just wished the brothers' fourteen-year-long reunion could have taken place under better circumstances, circumstances that did not involve a trail of mutilated Kirschwassers leading to the throne where Albedo nearly violated the innocent Realian on his lap. And even then Jr. cursed himself for feeling a pang of relief in just _seeing_ that sick bastard again. Because underneath it all Albedo was still his precious twin…right?

Fool.

Jr. played that part all throughout Albedo's game. Dumber than thinking he could atone for the past, Jr. stupidly played into his twin's hand, doing exactly what Albedo wanted—what Albedo had _always_ wanted—right up until the end.

Damn.

Sadly, when Jr. finally realized what he had done, it was too late.

"Shit!"

And he could swear and cry and scream all he wanted, but Albedo's blood would forever be on Jr.'s hands.

Dead.

It was not the same as when Rubedo abandoned Albedo on Miltia. Back then, there had always been a slim, idealistic chance that Albedo would come back and the twins could live happily ever after. But now Jr. had killed his brother, and there was no fairytale ending for fratricide.

Half.

And without the comforting beats of Albedo's heart echoed in the right of his chest, Jr. understood the true meaning of being an other half. Incomplete.

Miss.

We never know what we have until it is gone, an old adage that had been overused as far back as Lost Jerusalem, but that did not imply the saying was untrue. Jr.'s nightmares of Old Miltia paled in comparison to the terrors he endured during the months following Albedo's demise.

Heal.

The wounds would scab over, but eventually rip open again, often by Jr.'s own volition. He wanted to move on, but a part of him wanted to eternally punish himself for destroying the greatest thing to ever happen in his life—for throwing away the past, for murdering Albedo in the present, and for denying any possible future the twins could have shared. All because Rubedo was scared.

Fear.

He was scared on Old Miltia. He was scared to face Albedo. He was scared to face the monster he was deep inside. He was scared to lose everything.

But what good was it to be scared? Everything Jr. feared inevitably came to pass anyway. Being scared only wasted time and made him run away from things, not just the potentially bad things but the potentially good things, too.

Life.

There were so many things Jr. missed out on throughout his twenty-seven years, some due to being raised a sheltered childhood in a military institute. But the more important moments Jr. missed with Albedo were entirely his fault. Perhaps the brothers _could_ have come so some semblance of a ceasefire. It was challenging for Jr. to imagine it, but not impossible, either.

He had intended to bring Albedo back to the Durandal after their battle in the Omega System. It was anyone's guess how Jr. would handle their rocky relationship afterwards, but the redhead often fantasized. Life would not be easy, especially after the crimes Albedo committed, but Jr. figured he, Gaignun, and Helmer could finagle some legal mumbo-jumbo to appease the Federation. And if necessary, Jr. was willing to leave with Albedo for a while until the madman became nothing more than a forgotten nightmare in Second Miltia's history.

Jr. hated the idea of running away again, and how silly to imagine running away with Albedo, just the two of them. Too much togetherness tore them apart in the first place, after all. And the twins were no longer innocent children, when togetherness was not quite so compromising. Living together. Eating together. Sleeping together…

"Fuck!"

It would not be the first time Jr.'s adult mind slipped into carnal thoughts, but with _Albedo_?! Being a man trapped in a child's body was no excuse. After abandoning and eventually killing his sibling, how in hell's name could Jr. remotely consider defiling his brother any further?!

Need.

Even so, there would always be that nagging, magnetic desire. From the moment of birth the twins had always been together, always needed each other, and even now across the rift of death Jr. realized he did not want to live without his other half.

But the boy had to keep living, because other people needed him.

Fate.

Yet of all the people who relied on Jr., Albedo needed him the most. Even after achieving his goal, his death, his freedom, he could not stay away. And just as when the twins were first reunited in the Song of Nephilim, Jr. was not disappointed in seeing the White Testament, though he again felt guilty knowing his happiness was at the cost of another loved one's life. Ironically, Gaignun seemed to understand his older brothers' bond better than the dysfunctional twins ever had. To rejoin the twins in spirit was a cause worth dying for.

Soul.

Refilling the gap left inside him for most of Jr.'s life took some getting used to. True, Albedo had always been in Jr.'s thoughts, but having Albedo actually inside his head was another matter altogether. A literal headache, Jr. would tease, and the younger brother would snicker at his sibling's lame joke. When was the last time the twins laughed together?

The white twin slept most often, more content than Albedo ever felt during his life, and it had a similar soothing effect on Jr. Either Jr. was finally maturing into a more levelheaded adult, or his reconnection with Albedo was what he had always needed to be happy.

Done.

For the first time in twenty-seven years, Jr. and Albedo felt whole. There was finality to their completion, as though the end had finally come to one long chapter in their lives. This was not the ideal ending Jr. originally hoped for him and Albedo, but it also meant a new story could begin, preferably one the brothers would not mess up.

Hope.

Jr. and Albedo were no longer two halves—they were one. Both were reborn into this brave new world, where Lost Jerusalem was their destination. The journey would not be easy, and the scars of the past were still healing, but for Jr. the challenges felt just a little less impossible now. He was not facing these new trials half-cocked, in all senses of the phrase. This universe would meet an older, wiser, stronger Gaignun Kukai Jr.

"Love."

And once the Elsa found Lost Jerusalem and achieved its true happy ending, Jr. had every intention of telling his treasured other half one final, overdue four-letter word.

 **Fini**


	5. Five O'clock Shadow

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_

 **COMMENTS** : It's high time Gaignun showered up—er, I mean _showed_ up in this series, don't you think? ;P

* * *

6&7#5: "Five O'clock Shadow" | Genre: Humor/Angst | Rated: T for brief language, sexual humor/elements including implied nudity, & brotherly bathroom banter

* * *

 **Five O'clock Shadow  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

" _Gaignuuuun!_ Will you hurry it up in there already?! Mary and Shelley spend less time in the bathroom!"

Green eyes rolled as Gaignun shut off the showerhead, slicking back soaking bangs away from his face. Was it so much to ask that he be allowed to take a shower in peace, without his obnoxious "son" rapping against the frosted glass door?

"I know they're not in there with you, so what's taking so long?"

For the record, Gaignun's shower had not taken nearly as long as Jr. blew out of proportion. The kid was simply being impatient as always. It probably did not help that the Kukais were preparing for a fancy dinner date—with the lovely Godwin and Mizrahi ladies—and Jr.'s demeanor around MOMO always brought a mischievous smirk to Gaignun's lips.

"Says he who hogged the shower before me," retorted Gaignun. "We can't all have young, low-maintenance bodies like you, Jr." He reached for the plush towel draped over the door—which immediately vanished thanks to the vindictive little brat on the other side. If Jr. wanted Gaignun to hurry, the redhead's antics were rather counterproductive.

"Low-maintenance, like hell!" Jr. haughtily huffed. "I'll have you know I shaved."

Gaignun almost asked, "What?" and "Where?," but he really did not want to know one way or another. When a man hits twenty-six, first-time milestones like shaving have long since lost their luster. Then again, when one is dealing with a twenty-six-year-old brother stuck in a twelve-year-old's body…it does present itself with a wide variety of irresistible jests. And Jr. had a tendency to inadvertently walk right into them.

"You're a big kid now, son," Gaignun praised—sarcasm dripping like the water across his body—no different than a giddy parent gushing over his kid's first successful potty training. "Daddy's so proud of you!"

The shower door was torn open and a towel was chucked violently (or as violently as plush could allow) into Gaignun's laughing face. Naturally, a towel did little to muffle Jr.'s colorful retaliations, and the excess steam from the shower did nothing to cloud the boy's pink cheeks. If there was one thing Jr. hated it was being demeaned over his unchanging body, demeaned by his "younger" brother, no less.

It was all in good fun, Jr. realized, but still…there _was_ a dinner to get to, after all. Jr. was already dressed in a sharp black suit and red tie, feeling impressed with how well he cleaned up despite the absence of his gun holsters. He had already snuck a peek at the women sitting in the lobby—the Godwins dressed sexily, Juli dressed elegantly, and MOMO dressed adorably. Three out of the four women waited patiently, but Jr. knew Mary Godwin was the saucy one. Knowing the comedian, she would attribute the Kukais' sluggishness to Jr.'s short legs or his unwillingness to part with his pistols…and the last thing Jr. needed was a barrage of embarrassing jokes at his expense, especially when _Gaignun_ was the one dragging his feet!

"Quit bein' an ass already!" the boy snapped, knowing his change of subject was sloppy but preferring it to Gaignun's teasing. "You've got five minutes, little bro, or I'm ditching you and showing those ladies that a _real_ night on the town looks like."

If that was supposed to 1.) impress, 2.) intimidate, or 3.) light a fire under Gaignun, they were three strikes against the redhead. Wrapping the towel around his waist, the larger brother made his way to the metallic sink, turning the faucet to fill the bowl with warm water. "I'll make a deal with you, Jr.: you give me five minutes and I'll give you ten, and we'll see who makes it farther with the girls."

Jr. raised an eyebrow. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Although he had a gist, and he did not appreciate the insinuation. Pointing all over himself, the boy haughtily remarked, "I'll have you know _this_ could be dangerous."

Gaignun splashed water on his face to hide another growing smirk. "For who, pedophiles?"

"For _you_ , little brother," Jr. countered, placing his hands on his hips and nodding with too much self-assurance for someone of his stature. "I think we both know you'd be up shit's creek if I didn't look like this."

 _This ought to be good_ , Gaignun almost laughed, opting to wait on shaving until after Jr. did his little comedy routine. Laughter and shaving razors rarely yielded positive results. Knowing it would be better to ignore the scamp, but unable to resist, Gaignun humored Jr. "And how do you figure that, big brother?"

"Duh!" Jr. shrugged, as though he was making the world's most obvious point. "We're clones. We looked alike as kids so _obviously_ we'd look alike as adults. It's easy for you to take for granted all those women when you don't have any competition, Gaignun."

The black-haired brother was the one to arch an eyebrow this time. First of all, Gaignun's romantic relationships only involved Mary and Shelley, not "all those women" like Jr. exaggerated. True, Gaignun had a bevy of female admirers, but the closest he ever got to them was to sign autographs or take photos—sans the occasional shameless fangirl who managed to cop a feel before being escorted away, but if Gaignun learned anything from his family it was that crazy could never be completely avoided in life.

"And by 'competition,' I assume that would be _you_ , Jr.?" Gaignun asked with no small amount of incredulity.

"Damn right it'd be me!" Jr. boasted, getting lost in his own arrogant little world. _Let children dream_ , Gaignun figured. "Only I'd be ten times hotter than you, what with all this awesomeness I've got. No woman could resist, and that would make you the loooonelist man, Gaignun. But because I'm so awesome, I'd be nice enough to give ya a girl every now and then."

It was getting harder for Gaignun not to burst out laughing. "That's an awful lot of awesomeness for one person to handle, Jr."

"I know, right? I'd be like a nuclear reactor." Jr. rethought matters more seriously, maybe too seriously for this level of silliness. "Women would fight over me, riots would ensue. Jealous boyfriends and husbands would hire hitmen. No place would be safe for me. I'd have to go into hiding and have you pose as my double."

"You'd sacrifice your own kin to the raging mob, Jr.?"

"Think of it as another way I'd let you have a girl," the generous imp smirked whilst Gaignun simply shook his head. "But damn, what a mess that'd be. Really. Can you imagine if every woman wanted me? Hell, what if every _guy_ wanted me, too?"

"Would you have me double for you then, too?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Gaignun. We're talking apocalyptic proportions here! If I were handsome enough to attract every single person in the entire universe, nobody could function, or date, get married, or have kids!"

"It would be the end of civilization as we know it." And to complete the most mind-numbing of conversations, Gaignun added matter-of-factly, "And then _you_ would be the loneliest man, Jr."

Not expecting that turn-around, Jr. scrunched his face but agreed. "Good point, which is why it's probably a good thing I keep this awesomeness of mine under lock and key after all."

"I and the world will forever be in your debt," Gaignun nodded appreciatively, before finally reaching for the shaving cream canister. "Now, if we're done discussing your world-ending allure, Jr., would you mind if I finish getting ready?"

"Who's stopping you?" the redhead replied, though Gaignun preferred to ignore his ignorance and lather his jawline. For all the man's teases, Gaignun was only removing a faint five o'clock shadow, hardly a beard or anything worth extensive treatment. The same could be said across the rest of Gaignun's body, smooth and lean and unquestionably eye candy to anyone interested. Not that Jr. was interested, per say. At least not in _that_ sense.

But it did make Jr. wonder if his stupid fantasy was as stupid as it sounded. Okay, yes, the part about "world-ending allure" _was_ stupid, but what about the truths that were not quite as stretched? It was no lie to say he and Gaignun would look alike as adults. Aside the U.R.T.V.s being clones, Jr. had one other piece of proof:

"He" looked, and even sounded, just like Gaignun, except with violet eyes and white hair.

Two out of three Variants were odds that Jr. could bet behind.

For Jr. it was like looking into a futuristic mirror, imagining himself in Gaignun's place, half-naked in all his grown-up glory, shaving like any other adult. It was no big deal, and yet for a man trapped in a childlike body it was all Jr. could think about. That, and sex. A twelve-year-old body did not stop Jr. from thinking about that, either, but he tried to tamp down those urges as quickly as possible. He was not ashamed so to speak; he just did not need to be reminded about not getting any.

It was a price Number 666 had to pay. After all, it was not Jr.'s allure that had the potential to end the world.

 _Think about something else_ , Jr. reminded himself for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately, it was a challenge to think about anything else when he was practically staring at his half-dressed, older self. The redhead felt guilty, too, knowing it was downright narcissistic to project himself onto his baby brother. _Stop thinking only about yourself, dammit!_

Albedo accused him of self-centeredness similarly.

 _And stop thinking about that bastard, too!_

But somehow the white ghost would begin to impose himself atop a perverted layering of one adult brother over another. Gaignun, overlaid by Jr.'s fantasized self-image, overlaid by the grinning madman himself, staring back at his twin with that irritating grin.

" _Yo, Rubedo."_

Albedo's smile would have pissed off Jr. more intensely had the smaller brother's eyes not been glued elsewhere, imagining every hill and valley of his exposed form. Such a magnificent body was half Jr.'s and he wanted it for himself…

 _Don't. Think. About. Him._ Jr. could not afford to. Sometime during the redhead's self-disgust session, Gaignun had finished shaving and was now wrapping himself in a green bathrobe. Miracles did happen. Less flesh meant more composure on Jr.'s behalf, and it made the mask he wore easier to bear.

"Well, I'll leave you to finish powdering your nose," the boy teased, folding arms behind his head as he strolled towards the shut bathroom door. "But don't forget what I said, Gaignun. Five minutes means five minutes!"

Gaignun neglected to point out that his son's antics had already wasted well over five minutes. Still, he much preferred a silly Jr. to a silent one. "Whatever you say, Jr."

"Got that right!" bragged Jr. as he activated the sliding door and walked out—seconds from strolling right into Mary Godwin. Correction: seconds from strolling right into a very impatient Mary Godwin who wore a very unhappy frown on her face (and also wore a very tight, _very_ short, _very_ low-cut blue dress, which Jr. almost got up close and personal with). Thank God/Dammit for U.R.T.V. uber-reflexes!

" _What_ is keepin' you two?!" insisted the blonde. "Sis an' I didn't take this long gettin' ready!"

Jr. shouted a victorious, _("Told'ja, Gaignun!")_ , across the Kukais' mental link before pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom. "Go and tell that that Master Godiva in there!" But before Mary could do just that, Jr. reconsidered after another up-down admiring of Mary's seductive attire. "Er, wait! On second thought, don't go in there. Otherwise Gaignun will never come…out of the bathroom, that is."

Mary swatted the naughty giggler, just as the bathrobed man of the hour finally emerged from his throne room, apologizing much too smoothly for Jr.'s tolerance level. _Oh sure, baby brother hurries when a pretty lady's calling._ The kid just crossed his arms and rolled his eyes as Gaignun layered on the charm, calming Mary's irritation almost instantly. _Kiss-ass._

"Oh, well, hehe, I understand, Mastah' Gaignun," the blonde tee-heed like a friggen schoolgirl whilst her boyfriend teased the curls framing her blushing cheeks. Jr. nearly puked. "Ya can't rush art, right?"

"And speaking of art," flattered Gaignun, placing a hand on the woman's thin waist, melting her into putty. "You look beautiful this evening, Mary…"

"Can we get this show on the road already before I lose whatever appetite I've got left for this damn dinner?!" Jr. crankily blurted out as only a child could. _("You're so full of shit, little bro.")_

The moment ruined, Mary pecked Gaignun's cheek before returning to the lobby, a spring in her step that was the polar opposite of her earlier anger. That guy had a gift, alright, and Jr. sometimes wondered if it was _entirely_ thanks to the U.R.T.V.s' powers. Like it or not, some men were born Casanovas, no truer words when Gaignun went to the walk-in closet, found his suit, then shed his robe.

The U.R.T.V.s were much too comfortable with one another, something Jr. often cursed. It was hardly the first time he saw his brother naked, but there was a difference between innocent young boys sharing a communal shower versus grown men…especially when one of those men was not actually grown.

 _("If you have a problem with it, why do you keep staring, Jr.?")_ , Gaignun just had to ask as he dressed, grating the older sibling's last nerves. Whether or not this brief peepshow was payback for Jr.'s obnoxiousness, the kid merely left, refusing to justify Gaignun with an answer, aside the obligatory _("Asshole")_ remark. And yes, Gaignun did feel guilty after the fact. The poor kid did not need his misfortune rubbed in his face.

But Gaignun was not stupid, either. He knew why Jr. stared. He knew what Jr. fantasized about. The only question was if such feelings reverberated far enough across the U.R.T.V. mental link to reach the object of Jr.'s desires.

Despite his many admirers, Gaignun felt jealous.

 **Fin**


	6. Six Six Six

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_

 **COMMENTS** : This story takes place during the U.R.T.V.s' childhoods, pre-Miltian Conflict, and also during the early years when U-TIC was still a mystery to the rest of the world. After all, nobody seemed to know U-TIC = Ormus until the present day in _Episode II_. This chapter will also dig into Xeno-style religious symbolism/elements, so feel free to consider everything a "what-if?"

* * *

6&7#6: "Six Six Six" | Genre: Adventure/Drama | Rated: T for mild language, mild violence, & religious references. This story is pure fiction and no religious offense was intended.

* * *

 **Six Six Six  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

Those idiots had really done it this time. But as the saying goes, he who plays with fire inevitably gets burned. Just because he happens to be a devout follower of his god does not make him an exception to that rule, either. And if God does not play favorites, damn certain the Devil does not, either.

Thus the fire indiscriminately burned, devouring the once-proud U-TIC stronghold that better resembled a once-sacred chapel of a bygone religion. Some soldiers prayed to the nameless, crumbling statues, but most fled to the hangar, foolishly fighting each other over the remaining operational A.G.W.S. Martyrdom always sounded romantic until the day of reckoning finally arrived.

So weak, all of them—the brave men of U-TIC mere sissies compared to the _children_ they fought.

But to be fair, Albedo no longer felt overly fearless, himself. Neither did Nigredo. This fiery battle had long since gone to hell, and now it was every soldier for themselves—adult and child alike. And the Variants would have fallen back by now, had they not been missing their leader.

"We can't wait around forever!" Citrine shouted over the umpteenth explosion, gripping the vibrating railing of the U.R.T.V.s' shuttle. Of the sixty bioweapons deployed on this mission only thirteen were lost, most when the citadel began disintegrating. U-TIC's casualties were far more devastating. Nevertheless, the girl was not about to lose any more comrades…especially on account of her Variant brothers' dawdling. Their ship was boarded, loaded, and ready for takeoff anytime, and time was of the essence when docked inside a floundering fortress. "Are you leaving with us or not, Nigredo?"

Albedo noticed his exclusion from Citrine's question, but he was much more appalled by his sister's cold-hearted insinuation. "Are you actually suggesting we _leave Rubedo behind_?!" he screamed back, fury reddening his wide-eyed face. All that stood between his palm and Citrine's face was Nigredo's restraints, but they did not silence Albedo's mouth. "You heartless bitch! How'd you feel if we left _you_ behind?!"

"If it preserved the integrity of my mission then I'd proudly lay down my life," Citrine countered matter-of-factly, not the least bit bothered by Albedo's insult. It was hardly the first time she was labeled so callously by people who had not the foggiest idea of the responsibilities she carried. "I am not about to jeopardize a shuttle full of U.R.T.V.s just for one kid who's _supposed_ to be the leader!"

His sister's ideology fell on deaf ears. Albedo would sacrifice an entire planet for Rubedo's sake. Of course, he did not expect Citrine—or anyone, for that matter—to understand, so what point was there in arguing? A nearby steeple had collapsed, gagging the children inside a cloud of debris. It would not be long before the entire floating structure leveled itself.

After painfully wrenching himself out of Nigredo's hold Albedo made a beeline for the nearest corridor, ignoring his youngest brother's hollers. So what if Citrine left without him? There was consolation in knowing Albedo would be there for Rubedo's death.

Nigredo knew exactly what his white-haired brother was thinking, too, and it terrified him. All he could imagine was Albedo holding onto Rubedo forever—together in their final moments, and countless years later, the undying U.R.T.V. never letting go of his other half's corpse…

"Ten minutes," Nigredo told Citrine, leaving no room for argument. He understood, even admired his sister's conviction, but she did not share the same bond with Rubedo and Albedo, either. "If they're not back by then, leave us."

" _Us," as in leave me behind with them_ , Citrine knew, shaking her head in disgust. Love was not blind, it was blinding, and it made people act incredibly stupid. Why Dmitri allowed his Variants to possess emotions, unlike the unfeeling standard U.R.T.V.s, Citrine would never know. She decided never to be swayed by emotions.

For those reasons, she also decided to keep her mouth shut regarding the perfect opportunity, win-win situation her baby brother was moronically forgoing; the Red Dragon dying here and now, in the rubble, without the need to be slain by the Executioner. Citrine knew Nigredo was not a coward, but still…it would have saved his heart a little guilt.

"You're all fools, Nigredo."

* * *

Blood pounded in Albedo's ears, barely muting the booming destruction into which he ran face-first. Such recklessness was typically Rubedo's doing, not his timid twin's, but Albedo could not afford to become frozen by fear. And it was not himself for which he was afraid…

"Rubedo!"

His cry came out as an echoed gasp upon finding the link master in a foyer; circular, like a clock, ornamented with exactly twelve cracked statues at each hour, encompassing its center where a thirteenth idol overlooked the main altar. A fresh bloodstain obscured the engraving –RIENKIND, smeared against the sagging corpse of a robed old man. Why an organization like U-TIC employed such a surprising number of priests—not to mention hole up in holy sanctuaries—was beyond Albedo's understanding, but apparently faith protected its devout only so much. The boy did not fathom religion, but he did know what it felt like to worship something, or someone.

Even when that someone was encompassed by undulating waves of crimson; the color of the fire gradually consuming the hall; the color of his hair…and currently the color of his infuriated eyes.

"Bastard' kept shooting his mouth off," Rubedo snarled, knowing Albedo was near but choosing to keep his glare on the dead chaplain. The U.R.T.V. leader's body rippled with red, translucent tendons that intensified with each word. "He wouldn't shut up about how he was some sorta' 'chosen one'…hell, how _all_ of U-TIC was 'chosen' by their god to find some holy land. Jeez, I knew U-TIC was made up of a bunch'a nutjobs but this takes the cake."

There was no argument from Albedo. "Do you think it has anything to do with the Zohar?" It was so easy to forget their objective amidst the commotion and demolition.

Rubedo shrugged, the first movement he made since his twin arrived. The casual maneuver looked anything but when wrapped in menacing red ether. "Who knows? The Federation ordered us to investigate a criminal organization, not religious."

The Federation also did not order the U.R.T.V.s to _destroy_ the place, either, but Albedo held his tongue. He would always defend his twin, but even looking at the situation objectively, Albedo could not blame Rubedo entirely for the mission's catastrophe.

"I told him to shut up," recalled Rubedo, still shooting daggers at the carcass. The boy's fists clenched as his voice darkened. "I don't care what the excuse is, God or otherwise, that doesn't justify what U-TIC's done. Just because you're 'chosen' doesn't mean it's okay to screw anyone who isn't. If God _does_ exist I sure hope He's got enough conscience to be disgusted by what these holy rollers are doing in His name."

Perhaps the children were not in a position to discuss, never mind criticize, faith, but Albedo liked to think there was some degree of rationalism in his brother's rant. Unfortunately, the now-dead priest had not shared such sentiments.

"Then the son of a bitch started in on how _we_ are 'sacrileges,'" Rubedo continued to sarcastically lament, tipping further over the edge. "I told him to shut up _again_ but he just kept goin' on and on. How only God can create life, and it's a big no-no for people to scientifically emulate it. Just cause' I was born in a test tube doesn't make me any less human, dammit!"

Rubedo's words would have held greater strength had he sounded like he truly believed them. But it was the same dilemma for all Designer Children. None were conceived through the fairytale romance of a man and woman falling in love. All clones had a "father" and a "mother," but only regarding the sperm and egg donors. A genetically-engineered child was considered lucky to personally know one of their parents, although "lucky" was a pretty far-fetched feeling Rubedo felt for Dr. Yuriev.

"If God's supposed to love everybody unconditionally, then shouldn't that negate the need for 'chosen ones,' anyway? What the hell difference does it make how I was born? It's not as though Dad ran around impregnating hundreds of women! You mean to tell me God would consider _that_ a more acceptable practice?!"

The very idea nauseated Albedo, but he may have laughed if Rubedo's body was not growing redder and redder by the second. Not to mention the flames around them growing bigger and hotter. Now was not exactly an ideal time for the link master's absentminded rant. But like the sermonizing priest once had, Rubedo went on and on.

"After that the guy went batshit, chanting prayers and flinging holy water in my direction. It was like he saw a ghost, or…" Rubedo trailed, lowering his eyes towards his hands. The left hand held a forgotten pistol, whilst the other palm was naked, save for the U.R.T.V.'s red tattoo. Rubedo felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. "No, he must've seen my serial number."

Of all the things for a religious zealot to see. In the eyes of a priest, a cloned child already had enough strikes against him to be awarded eternal damnation. But to have the number 666 carved into his right palm…

Rubedo reclosed his fist and scrunched his eyes shut, hiding the truth inside and hiding from the ruins outside. "I'm not a monster."

Yet the leader continued to glow scarlet. To others the sight would have appeared diabolic—it was no small wonder why U-TIC's fanatical priest freaked out—but Albedo found Rubedo's blaze undeniably beautiful. Stepping closer into the glow, Albedo felt heat but no pain. At least, not his own. Psychic waves tended to carry ripples of thought and emotion, the Dragon inside feeding off its host's emotional turmoil. Albedo had a bevy of self-insecurities of his own, so he knew how agonizing it felt to be at their mercies.

Close enough to place a hand on his twin's vibrating shoulder, Albedo gently spoke. "It's okay, Rubedo."

"The hell it is! Look at me!" blasted Rubedo, quite literally. Carmine waves erupted from the boy, almost knocking Albedo backwards. Somewhere in the background two statues toppled into each other like tackling football players. The Red Dragon's ether was fluctuating, bouncing off walls erratically, some blows gentle as a breeze and others strong enough to ignite rows of pews. Emotional instability aside, Rubedo's subpar control of his powers did not improve the situation. "The last thing I wanna' do is prove that jackass right, b-but…"

They were the epicenter of the whirling, blazing destruction. It was hardly the appropriate place for Albedo to hug his brother but he did just that, wrapping his arms around his other half's trembling frame. Despite the fires Rubedo shivered as though he were encased in ice, the fear so crippling he could not bring himself to return his twin's embrace. The leader expelled all of his capacities just to stay in control of himself, and look how well that worked out.

"It doesn't matter what that old geezer thought," Albedo whispered in Rubedo's ear, gently combing a hand through the redhead's locks. He could feel his brother's muscles ease, albeit minutely. "We can't change a person's beliefs anymore than we can change how we were born. Maybe we _are_ sacrileges and maybe God can't love us," he paused to kiss Rubedo's forehead, wanting to kiss elsewhere and imagining how the priest may have reacted at seeing blood brothers behave that way. "But that's exactly why we need each other to survive."

It took some time, but eventually the Dragon's rage receded and Rubedo's body relaxed in Albedo's arms. Or more accurately, the older twin's body collapsed into Albedo's arms, the unleashing of energy always taxing on Rubedo's body. But by then Rubedo regained enough of himself to grapple onto his sibling's shoulders. It was a rare sight indeed whenever the proud, self-sufficient U.R.T.V. link master needed to lean on someone else for support.

When Nigredo finally showed up he figured the eldest Variant was injured and offered to help carry Rubedo. Two escorts were better than one, even if Albedo was not the biggest fan of sharing. U-TIC's building _was_ on its last legs, after all. The chapel collapsed inside itself, entombing the mad priest, and would have trapped the U.R.T.V.s if they had not rushed to the shuttle.

Citrine waved manically for the boys to hurry, seizing their collars and dragging them aboard just as the ground gave way. The launching was rocky, violent, and rewarded every passenger with a mixed variety of gashes and bruises, but when the dust settled the kids released the breaths they had held.

After using her headband to wrap a particularly nasty tear in Nigredo's shoulder, Citrine then stomped over to the bench were the Variant twins recuperated. She wanted to read the boys the riot act—what the hell took them so long? Why did the fortress suddenly go up in flames? Where the brats not aware that their foot-dragging nearly cost them the entire mission, let alone their lives?! But she preferred to leave those honors for their father.

For now, there was only one thing Citrine needed to know. "Did you find the stronghold's leader, Commander Abraham?"

Albedo warily eyed Rubedo, knowing Citrine was inquiring about a touchy subject. But whatever rage Rubedo felt had long since expired. Exhausted as he was, the link master gave his report. "Yeah, but my guess is he was called _'Father'_ Abraham. The man was a priest, not a soldier like we figured he'd be. The whole facility was built like one big church. Why? I have no idea. If this is U-TIC's way of strengthening, they're using the wrong ammunition. Religion doesn't hold the same power like it used to during the Lost Jerusalem era."

People once initiated wars due to religious beliefs, something the Galaxy Federation did away with during more peaceful times. Not so say religion was obsolete, but it was no longer something governments, armies, or terrorists could use to fuel violence. Or so everyone thought.

Citrine wondered herself. "Did he know anything about the Zohar?"

"He didn't seem to," which Rubedo knew was not a suitable answer. "But he sure knew about _us_."

"That's not good," frowned his sister, folding her arms. "We're the Federation's trump card. The less U-TIC knows about us, the better."

The situation was growing more desperate. U-TIC somehow achieved possession of the Zohar, though its whereabouts were still unknown. As to what U-TIC wanted, and was doing, with the Zohar, it was the U.R.T.V.s' job to find out—and stop it. Tonight's mission was hardly a job well done. One small consolation was the other U.R.T.V. recon division's discrediting the presence of the Zohar at that specific base, but that also meant their Zohar hunt was going back to the drawing board.

"Where is Abraham now? Did he escape or go down with the ship?" asked Citrine, hoping for the former possibility but expecting the latter. She could care less about the man's life, but a lost or dead body could not be interrogated, either.

"He's gone, but it was a dead-end, anyway," Rubedo answered knowingly, curtly, hoping to end the conversation before Citrine asked the inevitable question of _how_ Abraham died. The U.R.T.V.'s gun was still cold, but the Dragon's fire still simmered. And that made Rubedo feel even worse. "There was no getting through to that guy. We've got better people to risk our lives for."

That was not necessarily Rubedo's decision to make, but Citrine could tell across the U.R.T.V.s' mental link that her brother was not lying, either. Whatever was exchanged between Rubedo and Abraham, it obviously was not worth the effort. Later, Dmitri would get the details, but for now Citrine and the rest of her crew needed their rest. U.R.T.V.s were no good to anyone half-dead.

With the pressure off from his sister Rubedo finally relaxed, resting his head on Albedo's shoulder. The younger twin's hand covered his clenched fist, squeezing it reassuringly. Indeed, there were much better people for whom Rubedo preferred to risk his life. There were people who needed him and appreciated him, regardless of what he was or how he came to into being. _That_ was what mattered.

" _The mark of the Beast! You bear the Dragon's number! Devil wearing the skin of an innocent child! You fool nobody! The day will come when God himself will rid the world of such evil abominations! Monsters, all of you! MONSTERS! Burn everything in your wake, but it is_ you _who will be left with nothing in the end! NOTHING!"_

The dead lunatic's words still haunted the back of Rubedo's mind, but their bite lessened with time. As he listened to Albedo's echoing heartbeats, Rubedo realized that even if the whole world eventually turned its back on him, at least one person would never stop loving him.

 **Fin**


	7. Seven Lucky

**At Sixes and Sevens**

 _A collection of Jr./Rubedo & Albedo one-shots, drabbles, and short stories_

 **COPYRIGHT NOTE** : I don't own _Xenosaga_ , the Boogeyman, or Bigfoot.

 **COMMENTS** : Stylistically, this is a dialogue-dominant episode. As much as I enjoy writing/reading stories that involve lush details and descriptions, I also have a soft spot for stories that scrap detail for dialogue, where the dialogue itself paints a picture of the story's settings and situations. It's a style I used to employ more frequently in my earlier fanfics, and I'm happy to give it another go in this ficlet. Enjoy!

* * *

6&7#7: "Seven Lucky" | Genre: Suspense/Humor | Rated: K+ for brief language, fluff, brotherly bickers, and U.R.T.V. randomness

* * *

 **Seven Lucky  
** _Aiselne Nocturnus_

If seven were such a lucky number, why did it seem like Albedo always ended up with the short end of the stick? He was the "middle child" of the Variant boys, Rubedo being the oldest with the perfect wavelength and Nigredo being the baby favored by father. The white-haired brother felt fortunate enough to be Rubedo's twin, but in the eyes of everyone (himself included) Albedo was clearly the lesser half, a subpar sequel that would forever pale in comparison to its wonderful original. But Albedo could live with that. As long as he was by Rubedo's side, he did not mind being the link master's shadow.

Ironic, actually, considering Albedo was terribly afraid of the dark.

"Rubedo, _where_ are we?!"

"How the hell should I know?! I can't see a foot in front of me!"

"Ow! That isn't stopping you from _stepping_ on a foot in front of you, though."

"Oh, heh, sorry, Nigredo. But I can't help it. Scardycat over here keeps grappling onto me and—Albedo, would you leggo, already?!"

"But I hate the dark, Rubedo! You know that! And I think something's in here with us…"

"Like what? The Boogeyman?"

"I'm serious! I swear I felt something on my back just now!"

"Gimmie a break. There's nothing on your back, Albedo."

"How would you know?! You said it yourself you can't see anything!"

"I don't have to see it to know you're imagining and overreacting like you always do."

"And whose fault is that?! We wouldn't even be in this creepy place if you had any sense of direction, Rubedo!"

"Well maybe I'd have a better sense of direction if I could actually _concentrate_ for five friggen seconds without listening to the latest performance by the world's whiniest drama queen!"

"Shut up! You're one to talk to about performances, _Romeo_! We all know the _real_ reason why you can't concentrate. It's Sakura this and Sakura that! Sakura! Sakura! Sakura! For crying out loud, Nigredo and I are _so sick_ of you and your damn hormones!"

"Please keep me out of this, you two. If you want to bicker for the rest of the day, be my guest, but I would actually like to find a way out of here. Something just rubbed up against my shoulder."

"See! I knew something was in here with us!"

"My God, my little brothers are a bunch of a babies."

"Take that back, Rubedo!"

"Ha! Not when it's the truth."

"Jerk!"

"Oww! Dammit! Watch where you're kicking, Albedo!"

"How _can_ I when I can't see anything?!"

"Then perhaps this isn't the best place for you two idiots to engage in a rumble—oomph!"

"What was that?!"

"You okay, Nigredo?"

"Yeah. One of you knocked me into something, though."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It's…soft. A little warm, maybe."

"…W-w-what does _that_ mean?"

"It means quit cutting off the circulation to my arms, Albedo."

"I knew something was weird about this place! I knew it! Oh God, this is why I hate the dark! You never know what's hiding in the shadows, waiting to ambush us!"

"Do you hear yourself?! We're bioweapons, for chrissake. I think we can handle whatever's gonna' try to ambush us—or not ambush us, if _reality_ is any indication."

"And what if you're wrong, Rubedo?!"

"Psh! When have I ever been wrong?"

"…"

"…"

"Don't answer that. Point is: I'm the link master and nothing bad's gonna' happen to either of you on my watch. End of story."

"The end of your story would be so much more convincing if we weren't still stuck in here, Rubedo."

"Nigredo's right. I know something's on my back!"

"Yeah, you _would_ know, Albedo, since you've been on my back for the past twelve years…"

"I heard that, Rubedo!"

"I _wanted_ you to hear it!"

"Jerk!"

"Ass!"

"Halfwit!"

"Ninny!"

"We're never getting out of here, are we—? Huh? Hold on…shhh! Shut up, you two! I thought I heard something."

"Like what, Nigredo?"

"If I knew, I would've told y—wait, there it is again. Some sort of shuffling nearby."

"You mean like footsteps?"

"L-l-like B-Bigfoot?"

"I _highly_ doubt that, but they're getting louder. Closer. Closer..."

"Oh G-God, this c-can't be how it e-ends…"

"We're looking at a pretty pathetic ending if it is."

"Waah! What's that clicking sound?! It's getting louder! Rubedo! Rubedo!"

"That's my ear you're screaming into, Albedo!"

"Something's coming! It's coming right for us! OH MY GOD! WHAT IS IT?!"

The answer to Albedo's cry came in the form of squealing hinges unveiling the brightest of lights, a blinding white light horrifyingly reminiscent of Death that made the middle Variant scream bloody murder. No! He was not ready to face death—not his own but Rubedo and Nigredo's—and never would be. Scared as he was, sweat-soaked and practically hyperventilating, Albedo refused to let his brothers go without a fight. So he took the strongest swing he could muster right at the silhouetted grim reaper…

"Eek!"

…who shrieked like a girl and stumbled backwards into the light, which dissolved into the soft colors of a young lady's bedroom. Once the boy's purple eyes adjusted did Albedo recognize his surroundings and the person he so nearly clobbered. Fortunately, she was not Death. _Un_ fortunately, she was the next worst thing.

"Sakura! Are you okay? Jeez, Albedo, what the hell's the matter with you?!"

"It's alright, Rubedo. I'm fine, honest. I heard you guys from downstairs and came as fast as I could. I probably shouldn't have locked the closet, but, well…I was hoping you guys would've come in through the front door this time. Hehe."

"…Yeah, well…heh, we're working on that, Sakura."

"'We,' he says, even though _he_ was in charge of the Encephalon dive's coordinates. One of these days we'll probably pop in on the roof."

"Can it, Nigredo. All's well that ends well."

"That's easy for you to say, Rubedo. You weren't scared out of your wits."

"That's cause' there was nothing to be scared _of_ , Albedo."

"Bullshit! I know there were things in there with us."

"Yeah, they're called _clothing_. Sorry bout' the mess, Sakura. We'll clean it up. There's nothing in there that's breakable, is there?"

"Oh no, just dresses, sweaters…"

"Nigredo may have stepped on one of those."

"Don't worry about it. That stuff is old, anyway. Most of the outgrown clothes from my dresser drawers got shoved onto shelves in there...but I should probably sort through those, myself."

"Come' on, we made the mess. We'll clean it up, okay, Sakura?"

"Thanks, Rubedo. But the thing is…"

"Hey, Rubedo! If you're gonna' make us clean this up, you're gonna' help us!"

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Jeez, don't get your underwear in a knot, Albe—phh! Hahahahaha!"

"And _what_ is so funny, big brother?"

"Heheheh."

"And what're _you_ laughing at, Nigredo?"

"Boys, hehe, that's not nice. Sorry, Albedo. Just stay still for a sec. There's…something stuck on your back."

"What?! I knew it! I told you guys something was there! Gah! What is it?! Get it off me!"

And Sakura did just that, at long least releasing Albedo from his nightmare. Except the nightmare did not officially end, only begin anew thereafter. Because whoever said seven was the luckiest number never found himself scared silly by a simple closet, his back barely able to escape the vicious hooks of a little lady's pink brassiere. He would never live it down…and if Rubedo and Nigredo did not stop howling like hyenas, they may not live much longer, either. And after this humiliation, that was a death Albedo with which might be able to cope.

So he thought, until his laughing twin slapped a half-hug around Albedo's shoulder, squeezing his arms and egging him to lighten up and join in the fun. And though Albedo did not find the moment quite so hysterical, he would be lying if he said that Rubedo's jovial smile was not contagious. It beat arguing, that was for sure.

Maybe bad luck and good luck were two sides of the same coin, like scares and laughs, one never far from the other.

 **Fin**

* * *

 **A/N** : Poor Albedo. I do feel guilty for having enjoyed this story so much at his expense. :3 But I hope everyone had fun with it!

~* This semi-suspenseful/spooky story comes with happy Halloween wishes from Aiselne! *~


End file.
